


colonies and continental divides

by marcaskane (noblydonedonnanoble)



Series: Professor/Student AU [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4711082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/marcaskane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Nothing that Abby had heard about Professor Marcus Kane could prepare her for the man that strolled through the door.</em> (prof/student au.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in the works for months and months, originally prompted by a conversation I had with [elizvbetholsen](http://elizvbetholsen.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr; I was planning on just writing a drabble at first but clearly it got away from me.

                Nothing that Abby had heard about Professor Marcus Kane could prepare her for the man that strolled through the door.

                He grimaced, just as he was purported to. He sat solemnly at the desk at the front of the classroom. As he cast his gaze across the room, he met the eyes of every student, in turn, not for too long but just long enough that they knew to be intimidated.

                It looked like he thought he was better than all of them.

                As a senior in a class full of freshmen, Abby could relate.

                She found herself wondering who thought it would be a good idea to put him in charge of an introductory class. For a school that prided itself on having professors that nurtured and encouraged their students, Professor Kane was a remarkably bad example. She saw nothing in him but indifference as he went over the class syllabus, the assigned reading material, and started in on their first lesson.

                He just seemed… _bored_.

                But again: Abby could relate. She knew that she should be taking the class seriously, but this was rather difficult when she _also_ knew that all she really needed to do was pass. Med school was already in the bag, almost all of her requirements were fulfilled, and the only difficult work she had ahead was her senior thesis.

                It seemed laughable that she would have to worry over a basic gen ed.

\--

                The class was not _hard_.

                Abby had taken every calculus class Northwestern offered. _Those_ classes had been hard. Basic macroeconomics was not hard.

                But she had to admit that she was struggling a bit.

                She was in a coffee shop called Kafein, which was located a few blocks from campus. As she enjoyed coffee in a corner, she agonized over the assignment that was due the next day. None of it made any sense to her. Words flashed by but none of it penetrated. All she could think was, “No,” over and over again, echoing through her mind.

                After the first day of class, she had expressed some distress to her roommate, Callie—this class was supposed to be her hole-in-one. What if she failed it?

                “Drop it,” Callie had told her. “You have time, find something easier and switch into it. This can’t be the only class that meets your social sciences requirement.”

                No. That wasn’t an option. Abby didn’t _drop_ classes.

                But a week and a half into the class, she had to acknowledge that if she didn’t figure out a strategy, she’d be fucked.

                On this particular day, she had nearly gone as far as to show up at Professor Kane’s office hours. But she had too much pride for that. She was going to try to muddle through on her own for a bit longer first.

                Exasperated, Abby grabbed for her mug to take a drink. Anything for a distraction, she figured. When she peered down into it, though, she saw that it was empty.

                She let out a massive sigh and pushed her chair back so that she could go to the counter and alert her server that she wanted a refill.

                Another patron was already up there, agonizing over what dessert they wanted to take a slice of to go. While she waited in line behind him, she scanned through the shop, taking in the students hard at work and the town residents who liked to come in to feel young and hip.

                Then she caught sight of him. At the front of the shop, there was an area of elevated seating where patrons could look out on the street. Sitting up there at a table all alone, absorbed in papers, was Professor Kane.

                Glancing down at her watch, Abby looked up at him again and smirked. He was supposed to be doing office hours right now, but here he was sipping coffee and grading homework.

                She took it as a sign that she should ask him for help after all. When she requested a refill, she asked that it be brought over to the table up by the window, where Professor Kane was sitting. That done, she weaved her way through the shop, retrieving her bag before moving purposefully to his table.

                “Professor Kane, hi.”

                He jolted at the sound of her voice, looking up at her as though she had two heads. “Hello.”

                “My name is Abigail, I’m in your 201 macro class. I saw you sitting over here so I thought I’d come over and introduce myself.”

                “Oh yes, that’s right, I recognize you. Good to meet you.” He gave her a meager smile before looking down, evidently under the impression that this was to be the end of their interaction.

                But then Abby sat down in the empty chair. Professor Kane looked up again. He looked completely unamused. “Oh, please, take a seat,” he said dryly.

                “I’m having a bit of a hard time on the homework that’s due tomorrow and I was hoping you could assist me. I wouldn’t have come over, except I couldn’t help but notice that you’re in here during your office hours.” She paused, raising her eyebrows ever so slightly. “It must have slipped my mind when you mentioned that you do your office hours here, yeah?”

                Professor Kane held her gaze silently for a good twenty seconds, clearly hoping that she’d let it go, but Abby kept staring at him. He broke first. “No one ever showed up so I started coming here to grade. I like it more than my cramped office.”

                “What, and you’ve never gotten a distressed email from a student who went to your office and found it empty?”

                “Not in the two years that I’ve been doing this, no.”

                Abby hesitated. He didn’t sound bothered by this fact but there was something about it that made her sad anyway. “I almost came in today,” she told him.

                “Why didn’t you?”

                “Because I decided I was too proud to ask for your help.”

                “I see.” Professor Kane did not point out that she was sitting across from him now, asking for his help. He examined her thoughtfully for a few more moments before gathering all of his papers into a folder and filing them away in his bag. Abby thought he was about to make a dramatic exit, but instead he leaned forward and gestured to her. “Go on, then. Tell me what you’re having a hard time with.”

                She gave him a small smile and pulled out her book.

\--

                Without actually agreeing upon it, the two of them began to expect that they would meet in the late afternoon during Professor Kane’s scheduled office hours each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He always behaved as though Abby was a mild hindrance, but then she walked into the shop late one day and caught him twisting around to see if it was her.

                “Not beginning to look forward to working with me, are you?” she asked teasingly as she eased into her seat.

                “Certainly not. I was just surprised, you came a bit later than usual.”

                “Right. Glad to see you were missing my company.”

                His ears turned pink, but he made no other indication that he was at all fazed. “Let’s get started. I know I assigned a longer reading for this past weekend so you probably have more questions than usual.”

                The most satisfying thing about their arrangement was that Abby was under no obligation to make small talk. She had never much liked the round-about way she had to speak with her professors when going into their offices, but Professor Kane was completely straight-forward and showed no expectation of real conversation.

                As he predicted, they spent longer than normal going through the concepts of the chapter and addressing the issues that confused Abby. They passed the marker of the official end to Professor Kane’s office hours, but if he noticed, he didn’t care. He stuck around until all of her questions had been answered.

                She was prepared to grab her bag and immediately wish him a good night, but then he did something that surprised her. He leaned back in his chair and said, “I completely forgot to ask—how was your weekend?”

                “Oh.” Abby paused, not sure what to say. “It was good. My brother came down from Wisconsin to visit me. He told my parents it was because he wanted to tour Northwestern but I think he was just hoping I’d bring him to a party.”

                Professor Kane smirked. “Did you?”

                Abby rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Do I look like the type to frequent parties?” Sure, she enjoyed having a night in with Callie and a bottle of wine, but the thought of actual college parties had always repulsed her.

                “No, you don’t.” He answered her very rhetorical question with very real sincerity. “What did you do with him instead?”

                “Made him stay in my apartment with me and my roommate while we watched a Say Yes to the Dress marathon on TLC.”

                He threw his head back and laughed loud, from deep within his gut. Abby’s brow furrowed. To think this was the same man who made freshmen so nervous that they’d rather fail his class than go in to ask a simple question.

\--

                She went into Kafein on a whim one Thursday evening after her last class of the day. She usually spent Tuesdays and Thursdays talking Callie through her inorganic chemistry homework, but on this particular evening, Callie made plans with her boyfriend last-minute, leaving Abby stuck trying to find some other way to entertain herself.

                Perhaps it should have come as a shock when she saw Professor Kane sitting at their usual table. But as it was, she went to join him without even blinking an eye.

                “Hi, Professor Kane.”

                “Abigail!” He jolted up in surprise, but unlike the first time she interrupted him hard at work, he looked at her with a smile. “Surely you haven’t finished the reading already; you only left class three hours ago.”

                “No, no, nothing like that. I just needed to get out of my apartment for a few hours—my roommate’s got a date night.”

                “Oh, of course.” For a few moments, he hesitated before: “Would you like to sit with me for a little while, then? I can’t promise I’d be the best company—I’m supposed to return these tests tomorrow and I’m horribly behind. But if you’d just like to sit…”

                “Sitting would be nice,” Abby agreed quietly. Professor Kane’s smile grew.

                They sat in silence for a few minutes. Out of the blue, he suddenly said, “Marcus.”

                Abby looked up sharply from her computer, waiting for him to elaborate, but he did not. He wasn’t even looking at her—his eyes were still on a test. “What?”

                He looked up. “I’d like it if you called me Marcus. I’ve always hated ‘Professor Kane.’ It sounds so strange.”

                “Marcus. Okay. I can do that.” Abby said slowly. He gave her a small smile and nodded once before looking down at the test again. But then she added, “You can, um… you can call me Abby, if you like.”

                “Yeah?” He nodded again, smile growing wider. “Alright.”

\--

                The most disconcerting thing about Abby’s increasingly frequent rendezvous with Marcus was that she had to go into class with him every Tuesday and Thursday and watch as he behaved like a completely different person.

                She couldn’t figure out what it was at first, why he felt the need to put on the airs of some snobbish, indifferent professor when she was becoming increasingly aware of how much he _loved_ teaching.

                Finally she asked him one day after they finished going over her questions, because she was not one to keep her opinions to herself.

                He looked at her like she had punched him very hard in the stomach. “What do you mean, ‘why do I act like such a dick in class?’”

                Abby made a face at him. “Surely you’re aware that you scare those freshmen out of their senses. Why do you think nobody ever came to your office hours? They don’t think you’re approachable. But I don’t understand why you feel the need to put on a show when you’re not like that.”

                “How come you decided to seek me out? If you don’t think I made myself approachable.”

                “Please. Like I’d let that stop me from passing the last gen ed I need to graduate.”

                Marcus chuckled, but his eyes revealed a sadness that he seemed to be trying very hard to hide. “I’ve always preferred one-on-one instruction; it makes it so much easier to cater to a student’s needs. If I seem more hands-off in class, that’s probably why. It’s not my fault if students are put off and feel reluctant to ask for my help.”

                 This answer bothered her, but she could tell that she wasn’t going to get anything better out of him any time soon, so she let it go.

\--

                On the Monday afternoon before the midterm, Marcus was to have a department-wide staff meeting, so the Friday prior, Abby and Marcus were in Kaffein up until midnight as he went through flash cards with her. While the two of them packed up and shuffled outside, Marcus reiterated over and over that he was thrilled for her, that he just knew she was going to ace the test.

                They stepped outside and began to walk back toward campus together, but as they reached a red light and waited to let some cars drive past, Abby paused. “Hey, Marcus. Want to pop into the Celtic Knot for a drink?”

                “For a drink?” The question came out sharply, certainly more so than he had intended.

                “Yeah.” Abby realized all at once just how the request sounded and she rushed to erase the weirdness that had just cropped up between them. “I’m just too hyped up to head home yet. Callie’s gone home for the weekend and if I go back to my empty apartment now I’ll have nothing to do. There’s no harm in getting one drink, right?”

                He hesitated for another moment, but finally just shrugged. “Alright. One drink.”

                There were still a fair number of people in the pub when Marcus and Abby arrived, many of whom were congregated around the bar. Luckily, the two of them were able to sit at a table further away from the noise. Almost immediately, Marcus rose back up to his feet so that he could ask Abby, “What are you having?”

                “No, no, you do not have to get me a drink. They’re not too expensive here, I can—” She gave up her protestations upon receiving a cross look from Marcus. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

                It seemed peculiar to Abby that he would flounder at the thought that she was asking him out for a drink, but that once they were actually in the pub, he felt the need to buy her drink for her.

                Marcus returned with two pints of Guinness, balancing a basket of fries on top of them. “I was getting a little peckish; feel free to take some,” he explained as he set it all down on the table.

                Upon sitting down, it became clear that Marcus was not sure how to behave. After taking a drink, he fidgeted with the glass, twirling it around on the table.

                But Abby felt no such misgivings, so she figured that it was her job to get the ball rolling. Say anything to keep the air between them light and comfortable. “Y’know Marcus, you spend so much time working, but I don’t think you’ve ever told me what you do over the weekends. How do you keep yourself entertained?”

                “Depends on the weekend,” he offered up first. Abby was worried that was going to be the end of it, but after taking another gulp of beer he continued. “When it’s warmer, I go out on the lake with my friends a lot.”

                “You’ve got a boat?” Abby realized that she sounded far too eager, and she scolded herself internally.

                He didn’t seem bothered, though, just amused. “Only a small one. When my dad was around, he and I shared a bigger boat, but I didn’t want to handle it alone and I wouldn’t trust most of my friends to be adept enough to help if something went wrong.”

                “Is your dad bummed that you got rid of the other one?”

                “Oh, no, I meant…” He looked startled, as though he’d forgotten that Abby was missing a crucial piece of information. “My dad passed away a few years ago.”

                Abby immediately went pale. How ridiculous, that she’d just assumed he meant his parents had moved away. “Christ, I’m sorry, I feel like I should have picked up on that.”

                “No, no, I’m sorry. Here you just invited me out for a drink and within two minutes of sitting down I tell you my father is dead. You’re hardly at fault.”

                 She still felt strange about it, but smiled graciously at him anyway. “Okay. So you like to sail when it’s warm. What about the rest of the year ‘round?”

                “Lots of things. Sometimes we go to a bar close to my condo for trivia night. Might go downtown for a concert—the House of Blues, usually, because even though it’s overpriced I have yet to find a venue that I like as much.”

                “Yup, that’s why they can charge an arm and a leg per drink. They know they’re the best.”

                The two of them both chuckled. As Abby took a sip of her Guinness, Marcus started in on a story of one of the concerts he had seen at the House of Blues—avante garde jazz, she should have guessed that he was into avante garde—and she felt pleased because he no longer seemed wary about sitting there and just talking with her.

\--

                Despite their declarations to the contrary, they did not stick around for just one drink. After three pints, Abby switched to water, but Marcus had another drink and a half before the Celtic Knot closed.

                They loitered just outside the door while Abby fiddled with her jacket; she felt too warm to wear it but she knew that was the alcohol, and that the wind was probably biting.

                “Where’d you say you live, again?” she asked him.

                “Uhm, Lincoln Park.” Marcus said it like it was more of a question than anything else.

                “Fuck, really? You can’t drive all the way to Lincoln Park like this. You clearly did not think this out very well.”

                “I really didn’t,” he agreed softly. He shook his head and laughed as it seemed to finally penetrate just what a state he was in. “I guess I can just… sleep in my car?”

                “Don’t be stupid, you’re not going to sleep in your car.” Abby finally found a happy medium with her jacket (on but unzipped), and before Marcus knew what was happening, she linked her arms with him and began to pull him in the opposite direction from campus. “You can stay at my apartment.”

                He began to splutter immediately. “Your apartment?” he echoed.

                “Sure. It’s right near the Foster El stop, less than a 15-minute walk. You have the promise of a bed and, if I feel up to it, you might even get free breakfast tomorrow, which is more than you’d get if you slept in your car.”

                “Even so…”

                When Marcus didn’t provide an actual excuse, Abby nodded authoritatively. “The Purple Line’s stopped running, your car is going to be cold, and you’re hardly going to check into the Hilton. I know you know this makes the most sense.”

                “Yes, it does. I just… don’t know if I should.”

                The realization hit Abby like a ton of bricks: he was being resistant because he thought he was supposed to be. Because he was worried about what would happen if it somehow got out that he went home with a student, even if nothing went on.

                “For God’s sake, I won’t tell on you. No one will even know you were there, promise.”

                Less than fifteen minutes later, they were standing in front of Abby’s door, just as she promised. For the life of her, she couldn’t find her keys in her bag, and when she did, it took her a few attempts before she got the proper one into the lock. Marcus actually giggled over her shoulder and she elbowed him in the side to make up for it.

                “Home sweet home,” Abby announced as she strode over the threshold. The apartment was dark, all lights turned off except for one lamp in the vestibule, by the light of which they removed their shoes and jackets.

                She led him down the hallway, gesturing to her right to say, “Living room. Decent couch in there, if you’re still nervous that people will talk,” she glanced back at him so that she could smirk. “But I promise there’s plenty of room on my bed. I once slept on it with two other people so you and I should be just fine.”

                For a fraction of a second, he seemed to hesitate by the living room before following her onward down the hall. They passed a closed door—“Callie’s room,” she informed him. Abby’s door, meanwhile, was open.

                Marcus waited in the doorway while she puttered around, grabbing some papers and a shirt that were strewn across the side of the bed on which she clearly did not sleep. After dropping them unceremoniously to the ground, she looked up at Marcus expectantly and immediately rolled her eyes. “C’mon in if you’re gonna.”

                He stepped into her room, but proceeded to stand awkwardly a few feet from the bed instead, looking down at it as though it was some foreign object.

                “I’m going to go change out of these jeans, I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable, honestly.”

                When Abby returned, now clad in a pair of pajama pants, Marcus was not on her bed. Instead, he was standing at her bookcase, thumbing through one of her books. She crossed the room to join him, standing at his side as she asked, “What’re we looking at?”

                “ _Palm Sunday_. Some of these annotations are very intriguing.” He flipped through it quickly, landing on a random page, which they both gazed down at together. It was the end of a chapter, and Abby had underlined the last few sentences. Half the page was devoid of text but she had filled it with a very large, all caps declaration of, “I fucking love you.”

                “Eloquent,” he remarked with a smirk.

                “I like Kurt Vonnegut,” Abby offered, directing a smile up at him.

                “Well that’s quite the understatement.” Marcus met her gaze and raised his eyebrows. “It says here that you ‘fucking love him,’ so which is it?”

                Silence stretched between them. His mouth quirked up and he licked his lips. Abby swallowed, lips parting slightly as she tried to say… something, but her mind was completely blank.

                And then she was standing on the tips of her toes and pressing a kiss to his lips.

                Marcus stood frozen as Abby moved her mouth against his. She did not try to deepen the kiss, instead just lingering and appreciating the feel of his lips, warm against hers and slightly chapped.

                Very abruptly, she stopped, pulling away and shaking her head, chuckling to herself. “I’m sorry, that was wrong of me. Clearly I’ve had too much to drink. Let’s just go to bed, yeah?”

                “Yeah, sure,” Marcus agreed. His voice was hollow.

                Abby fell asleep almost immediately, curled up on her side facing Marcus. He was not so lucky. He laid on his back, alternating between staring up at the ceiling and looking over at her. It seemed that his head was never going to stop spinning.

\--

                When Marcus awoke, Abby was sitting beside him, a full plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in her lap, and another plate in her hand. As soon as she realized that he was stirring, she sat up a bit higher and made a little noise as she tried to swallow a bite of food more quickly. “Mm! Morning, Marcus. It’s nearly noon, I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up. Would you like breakfast?”

                “Sure, I could eat.” His voice came out rough as he pushed himself up by the elbows and rose into sitting position, taking the full plate from her outstretched hand. “Is it too much to hope you’ve got coffee?”

                “It’s waiting in the kitchen. I can get you some, I just wasn’t sure how you’d like it.”

                “Oh, first cup of the morning black, always.”

                “Coming right up.” She set her plate down on the bed and rose to her feet. As she left the room, she called over her shoulder, “The bathroom is right across the hall if you need it.”

                Marcus took a bite of the eggs and let out a groan of delight. “Is there nutmeg in these eggs?”

                “Yes! D’you like it?” she called from the other room.

                “Love it.”

                Abby padded back in with steaming mug in hand, held it out to him as she sat down. “It’s my mom’s fault. She always used nutmeg, and I can’t eat it any other way now. But I’ve accumulated many converts to my ways.”

                “I’ve no doubt,” Marcus said, chuckling. He broke a piece of bacon off of one of the very crisp slices in front of him, taking an eager bite. “I’m sure you can be very convincing when you want to be.”

                She was racking her brain for a comeback until she realized that the front door to the apartment was being opened. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled.

                “You up, Abby?”

                “Shit shit shit,” she repeated as she scrambled back to her feet.

                “I thought you said she was gone for the whole weekend?” Marcus asked, his voice low.

                “Hey, yeah, I’m up. What, uh, what happened to staying at home until tomorrow?” Abby asked as she went to stand in the doorway, leaning out to look at Callie as she shucked her jacket and dropped her bag in her room.

                Callie came a few feet closer and Abby leaned against the doorjamb purposefully so that her whole bed was out of sight. “They’re not in the best shape for entertaining right now. My dad’s had a couple of pretty bad days, so my mom and I decided I’d go back in a week or two.”

                “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Abby grimaced. She had gone home with Callie once for Thanksgiving, since it was a much closer drive than her family’s usual get-together in Minnesota. Callie’s dad had been more cognizant then, and Abby had really enjoyed getting to know him. But in the two years since, his condition had deteriorated quite a bit.

                “It’s alright. What about you, how was your night?” She took a few steps forward, and Abby pointedly tried to make herself bigger in her doorway. “Do anything interesting after your study session?”

                “Uh, no, not really, we just, ah…”

                “Went out for a few drinks.” Marcus’s voice came from behind Abby and she nearly jumped, but she looked nowhere near as startled as Callie did as Marcus appeared at Abby’s side. “I was in pretty bad shape, so Abby insisted—very rightly—that I stay here rather than drive home. You’re Callie, I take it?”

                It took Callie a few moments of stammering before she got out a coherent, “Yes, that would be me.”

                “Great to meet you. I’m Marcus.” He stuck out a hand, which Callie shook, still looking vaguely shell-shocked. “Abby brought me some of the left-over chocolate chip cookies that you made last week, and I have to say they were absolutely stellar.”

                “Thank you, that’s… thank you.” She glanced at Abby, evidently seeking out some cue for what she should do next, but Abby looked relatively bewildered herself. “Well I’ll leave you two to…” She hesitated. “I’m going to get started on my lunch,” she declared at last.

                As soon as she disappeared into the kitchen, Marcus retreated to Abby’s bed to finish his breakfast, and Abby followed him, still dumbfounded. “I thought you didn’t want anyone to know you’d come over here.”

                “Sure, but there wasn’t really a point once she came in. You were hardly going to smuggle me out.”

                “No, of course not. It’s just…” It’s just now Abby would have to deal with Callie’s questions. Because even if she believed that all they did was sleep, there would still be questions.

                Marcus looked at her expectantly as he chewed his last bite of eggs. But she couldn’t seem to finish her sentence.

                “I think it’s time I got out of your hair,” he said, when he had determined that she was not going to say anything more. “I’ll just take my toast to go.”

                “Okay, but you really don’t have to rush out.”

                “No, no, I think I’ve probably overstayed my welcome. Should this just go in the kitchen?” Marcus held up his plate.

                Abby nodded. “Yeah, I can take it for you,” she said, but he was already off the bed and heading down the hall.

                When Abby poked her head into the kitchen, Marcus was rinsing his plate and mug while Callie peered at him from the stove. She quickly looked down at the pot that she was overseeing when Marcus turned to look at her. “Callie, it was lovely to meet you.”

                “You too!” she chirped down at the pot.

                It felt necessary for Abby to hover while he laced up his shoes. She tried to figure out how she was supposed to bid him farewell. Most men that she brought back to her apartment were the one-night stand, gone by the time she woke up type. She and her friends were all big on hugging, so every time she and Callie had people over, it ended in a five-minute bout of hugs all around.

                But then here was Marcus, who was a little bit of both. Or neither. Or something.

                “You were right,” he said. He said it down to his shoes, not to her. “This was better than sleeping in my car.”

                “Haven’t I told you that I always know what I’m talking about?”

                Marcus laughed as he rose to his full height. “Except when it comes to economics.”

                “That’s what I’ve got you for.”

                “Fair enough. You have a good weekend.”

                “You too. I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

                The moment she shut the door and turned around, she met Callie’s gaze. She was standing with her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised.

                “What?”

                Callie shrugged.

                “All we did was sleep.”

                “Did I say something? I didn’t say anything.”

                “Stop looking at me like that, then.”

                Rather than answer, Callie just shrugged again and retreated into the kitchen.

\--

                On the Wednesday after the midterm, Abby and Marcus met like usual, despite the fact that he had assigned no new problem sets or readings.  They chatted some, but mostly worked in silence.

                “May I ask you a question?”

                Abby barely glanced up from her computer. “Go ahead.”

                “It’s a bit nosy.”

                This got her attention. She looked up at him, brow furrowed. “Um, okay. What is it?”

                “You’re 25.”

                Nothing else. Abby smirked. “That’s a statement, not a question.”

                “I figured the question was implied.”

                “Alright, fair enough. I heard it.” She glanced down at her computer screen one more time before closing it and taking a long, slow sip of coffee.

                Marcus just waited patiently.

                Finally, she leaned back and cleared her throat. “On April 12th of my senior year of high school, I found out I’d gotten a full ride to Northwestern. My grades in high school had been impeccable, I was a member of every extracurricular under the sun, but my parents didn’t have much money, so most other schools ignored me. It was my lucky break.”

                “Sounds like it,” he agreed with a brief nod.

                “The very next day my mom was fired during a company downsizing. She was the one who made most of the money—my dad just had this little bookstore that he ran, he was always lucky if it even made a profit in a given year. And my brother was still just a kid. One of those stressful kids, too, y’know the ones that get sick so often you can’t help wondering if they’re just trying to spite their parents?”

                He nodded again. “Yeah, I do.” His voice was quiet, shaky.

                “My mom tried to make out like it was no big deal, started scouring for a job almost immediately. Every time she even got the sense that I might be worrying over her, she told me not to, told me to just let myself get excited to go away to school. But when August came and she still had no prospects, I decided to work until she got a new job, and just take a year off. A year turned into four.”

                “Where’d you work?”

                “I, uh, started off doing two jobs. There’s this diner in my town, great little place. That’s actually where I learned the trick with the nutmeg, I was sort of lying about that before.” Abby grimaced slightly. “I worked there from morning until early afternoon, then drove to a movie theater about an hour away to work until closing.”

                “Shit, how did you get any sleep?”

                “Who says I did?” She took another long drink. “It got easier eventually, though. I was able to quit working at the diner when they made me an assistant manager at the theater. I was a real asset to them, since I didn’t go away every fall.”

                “I’m waiting for the happy ending.”

                Abby got a far-off look in her eyes as a smile spread across her lips. “Clearly I’m here, so you know what it is. My mom finally found a company that wanted her. And Northwestern still wanted me.”

                “Yeah, of course I knew where it was going. But I still wanted to hear you say it.”

                Her gaze shifted and suddenly her warm smile was directed at him, not some spot in the distance. Then something seemed to occur to her and her face fell a bit. “I don’t really ever tell that to people,” she said, her voice suddenly quiet.

                “I’m not people,” Marcus offered.

                “No, that’s a good point. I guess you’re not.” After a pause, Abby asked, “But where’d that even come from? You can’t have found out very long ago, you were clearly bursting to ask me about it.”

                Marcus shifted in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh, I, uh… I was putting in your midterm grade and I guess I accidentally clicked—”

                “Were you reading up on me?” She was struck by some combination of flattered, flustered, and confused.

                “I suppose I was a little bit, yeah.”

                “Find anything interesting?”

                His lips quirked up. “Yes, I think so.”

                Abby nodded, took another sip of coffee, and opened up her laptop again. After a few seconds: “How old—”

                “33.”

                “Good age,” she said quietly.

                “It is,” Marcus agreed.

\--

                Abby was sitting in econ one day when she received a flurry of texts from Callie. Her phone buzzed nine or ten times in quick succession, enough that she was too curious to leave the texts until class was over.

                Upon opening her texts, she saw that almost all of them were screenshots from an anonymous posting app called Yik Yak. Abby had been made vaguely aware of the app in her junior year, and she knew just enough about it to understand that it was particularly tailored for college campuses, and that the posts that a person saw were different depending on their location.

                She ignored all of the screenshots and scrolled up to Callie’s first message, which simply read, “Thought you ought to know.”

                Abby opened the first screenshot.

                _anyone know who that girl is who’s always hanging out with kane? isn’t she a student?_

                Her heart immediately sank. She already had the feeling that she didn’t want to read anymore, but she flicked to the next screenshot anyway.

                _Yes she is. They’re always in Kafein together, it’s a little weird._

                The next response: _A lot weird. Maybe she’s in it for the A?_

                Over the course of the class, Abby scrolled through every single comment. She felt increasingly hot, was very aware of the blush spreading across her face and down her neck as she read all of the things that these strangers were saying. She got to someone who said, _Damn, I’ve been trying to get with her for two years, but no wonder she didn’t go for it. Guess she’s just into older guys_ , and she would have laughed if she didn’t already feel like she was going to explode.

                Abby could hardly stand to look up to take notes for the rest of class. When Marcus finally dismissed everyone, she put away things at a snail’s pace, putting a remarkable amount of effort into putting the finishing touches on her class notes for the day and into saving the notes to her hard drive.

                Marcus noticed. The moment the last student was out of the room, he stepped around his desk to walk closer to her, just as she stood up to meet him. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice full of concern. “Halfway through class you just—”

                “Can we please go to your office? It’s close by, right?”

                “Uh, yeah, of course we can. Let me get my things together.”

                He stuffed his lectures notes into his bag and disconnected his flash drive from the classroom computer before gesturing that she follow him.

                Abby tried to pretend that she didn’t feel like every single person in the hall was watching her as they walked a few doors down. He unlocked his office door and stood back to allow her inside. When he followed her, he hesitated for a few moments before pulling the door completely shut behind him.

                “Okay, what on earth has you so rattled?”

                “Callie sent me this.” She held out her phone, open to the first of the pictures. She watched his face as he flipped through them, but he looked surprisingly unmoved.

                “I’ll warn my department chair about this, so it doesn’t come as a surprise if she hears about it,” he said at last, once he had read through the comments. “This isn’t anything to worry about, okay? You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.”

                “Sure, but clearly _they_ think I have.” She gestured at her phone in exasperation. Despite her attempts to keep calm, she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. “We haven’t done anything wrong, so why are they talking like we’ve done something wrong?” Abby had been working so hard not to step over some line, but if people were convinced they had, she found herself wondering what the point was of fighting something that she was pretty sure they both wanted.

                Marcus swallowed sharply, taking in her watery eyes and frowning. “They have creative imaginations. You and I know that we’ve been… we’re just…”

                “Friends,” she supplied with a sniffle. She’d made sure to keep it that way, that one brief kiss excepting.

                “Yes, just friends. That’s right.” He smiled briefly. “So what does it matter if they’re making things up?”

                “I guess it doesn’t.”

                “Damn straight. So don’t let those assholes get to your head. You’re better than them.”

                She let out a loud sigh and nodded slightly. Then, in a flash, she was wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.

                Marcus embraced her instinctively, clutching her tightly and resting his chin on the crown of her head.

                “Thanks,” Abby mumbled into his chest.

                “Yeah, of course.” His voice sounded hollow. “Don’t know why you’re thanking me, though, when I’m the reason you’re feeling this way.”

                “No, they are. You just make me feel happy.”

                He clenched his jaw and breathed, “Yeah. Same goes to you.”

\--

                “Are you going back home for Thanksgiving?”

                “Yeah, I am, actually. My family normally goes to Minnesota, but my parents thought it would be nice to just have me at home this year. I’m pretty excited, actually,” Abby said, a grin spreading across her face.

                Marcus leaned forward, settling his chin in his hand as he rest his elbow on the table, which they had cleared of everything but their coffee mugs. “That’s right, you mentioned that you don’t go home that often. When was the last time?”

                “It must have been the summer before my junior year.”

                “Shit, really? I don’t think I ever stayed away that long when I was in school. How come you didn’t even go home for Christmas?”

                “They came and celebrated with me last year. My parents really wanted to spend some time in Chicago and see what it was like around Christmas time. Visiting me was a great excuse to avoid hotel costs. Plus I was able to act as tour guide.”

                “A role which I’m sure you played very well.”

                Abby shrugged, though she gave Marcus a gracious nod. “I was alright. I’ve always been able to figure out how get around the city, but I haven’t spent nearly as much time there as I’d like. School always seems to get in the way. Sometimes I feel as though…”

                He raised his eyebrows. “As though…?”

                “I don’t know, I guess I just feel like it’d be nice to travel some before I start med school.”

                “You could always defer for a year. A semester, even. Live in hostels in Europe, just like twenty-somethings are supposed to.”

                She rolled her eyes but she couldn’t help chuckling. “I can’t defer, not after I already put off my plans for four years.”

                “And you really can’t stand to wait just one more?”

                Marcus looked at her hard, holding her gaze until she sighed loudly and turned away. “You make it sound like it’s just that easy.”

                “It could be if you want it to be.” He tried to give her a gentle smile, but she still wasn’t looking at him. “I know I’m not your counselor, so you have every reason to disregard my advice—”

                “Don’t say that,” Abby said softly.

                 “What?”

                “You’re talking like your opinion doesn’t matter to me. Your opinion matters more than almost anyone else’s.”

                A blush crept up along Marcus’s neck, up to his ears. “Why are you arguing with me, then?”

                She smirked. “I said your opinion matters, not that I’ll take it as gospel.”

                For a few moments, he hesitated, his gaze trained on Abby as he contemplated something. “Remember when you asked me why I act like such a dick in class?”

                The abrupt subject change took Abby by surprise, but she decided to follow Marcus without question. “Yes, I remember.”

                “I think it’s because I let my indifferent students wear me down. I’ve always been fairly strict, but somewhere along the way I stopped reaching out to kids because hardly anyone seemed to care when I offered them help. Saying it aloud, I know it sounds immature and stupid. But I… I think that’s why.”

                Abby took a deep breath and nodded. “That does sound immature. I think I understand, though.” She cocked her head to the side. “What made you decide to bring that up now? I must have asked you about it nearly a month ago.”

                “I didn’t really have an answer until just now. I guess you made me look at it differently.”

\--

                In a fit of recklessness, right as they parted on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, Abby shoved her phone into Marcus’s hands and instructed him to add his number.

                For the first time in a long time, he gave her the look that she’d come to recognize as saying, “I think I’m supposed to say no.”

                But she shook her head vehemently at him. “No, no, don’t try to tell me you can’t.”

                He relented with a small sigh and a larger smirk.

                Abby had wanted to ask him for his phone number for weeks. It wasn’t that she even thought she would really have occasion to use it; it was just that the idea of being able to contact him if she wanted to was still enough to leave her feeling warm inside.

                But only two nights later, when her parents and brother had all retreated to their rooms to recover from their Thanksgiving food comas, she found herself itching to text him. She had nothing of any substance to say, and although she didn’t think he would care, she worried that if she didn’t tread lightly, he would balk anyway.

                Once the idea occurred, though, it took her hardly any time at all to talk herself into it.

                Marcus had gone to his mother’s house for Thanksgiving. In fact, his entire extended family converged on his mother’s house in Michigan each year; there was such a crowd that he was made to sleep on the couch in the family room while his niece and two nephews slept in sleeping bags on the floor.

                This was where he was when he received Abby’s text. Nearly everyone in the house was already asleep, but Marcus’s mind was racing too much for sleep to be within the realm of possibility any time soon.

                He knew his mom and his aunt were still up and chatting over tea in the kitchen, but he worried that if he went to join them, his aunt would probably bring up his relationship status for the fifth time since he arrived that morning. So he hid from them instead, choosing to watch tv with the volume low.

                When he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, he wanted it to be Abby. Each time his phone had gone off since Tuesday, he had hoped for it. He knew very well that if she actually texted him, it would turn him into a nervous wreck, but he hoped for it anyway.

                But unlike all of those false alarms, this one was actually from her. And it simply read, _I miss you_.

                Marcus’s heart dropped into his stomach immediately. He spent nearly five minutes wrestling with himself, trying to figure out an appropriate response. _We were just in class on Tuesday_.

                She answered almost immediately. _So?_

                He let out a long, drawn-out breath. _I miss you too._ A true statement, and a fact that scared him beyond reason.

                _Are you having fun with your family?_

                _Mostly_.

                In response, Abby sent a single question mark.

                The moment he tried to think of an explanation, he regretted giving such a response. He could have said, “good,” or, “great,” or any number of other things that didn’t necessitate an explanation. Instead, he was just asking for trouble.

                _Nothing like a family get-together to remind you that you are conspicuously uncoupled._

_Are most of your family members married?_

                _Literally all of them._

                Abby prefaced her response with a shocked emoji. _You must never hear the end of it._

                _I don’t. I honestly can’t tell you how many people have said today, “Y’know Marcus, you’re nearly 35. We were all married by your age.”_

Her response still hadn’t come in five minutes later, and Marcus was genuinely beginning to fret over whether he had said something wrong. While he had mentioned his age before, perhaps she hadn’t thought about it in a larger context. Perhaps it was enough for her to decide that she wanted nothing to do with him.

                _With a figure like yours, I’m sure you’ll find someone soon enough._

                Marcus felt his face heating up and, at a complete loss for what to say, he chucked his phone over to the other side of the couch. It bounced and landed against his foot.

                This was all too, too much. He felt like life was playing a practical joke on him. Here he had found this beautiful, intelligent, clever woman and she _was_ flirting with him—he’d worried at first that he was reading things wrong but ever since the night they went out for drinks, he knew that he had misinterpreted nothing.

                Somehow she was genuinely interested in him, but that didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

                Except he found himself forgetting that more and more. He let things slide when he knew they shouldn’t; most recently, he gave her his _phone number_ when they both knew very well that she had no need for it.

                He grabbed his phone from the other side of the couch and he responded before he could remind himself that it was a bad idea. _Stop, you’re making me blush._

                _Good._

                “Jesus Christ,” he muttered aloud, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut.

                The phone buzzed again, and Marcus checked it apprehensively.

                _When are you coming back to Chicago?_

                _Driving back Saturday evening._

_So that means you could do lunch on Sunday. Theoretically._

                Marcus told himself for a good five seconds that he would say no. But he couldn’t lie to himself for long. _Theoretically_ , he replied.

                Abby sent a single smiley face back.

                Fuck it. He was tired of coming up with excuses.

                _I think I know a good place._

\--

                While Abby got off at the Fullerton El stop, she told herself for what felt like the hundredth time that she and Marcus were doing nothing wrong. It was just lunch. Nothing separated this occasion from the time she asked him out to drinks, and that had gone fine.

                Admittedly, she had kissed him at the end of that particular outing. But that wouldn’t happen again. Probably. She wouldn’t mind if it _did_ happen.

                But it wouldn’t.

                The wind was biting and pushed Abby to walk more quickly. As such, it only took her about ten minutes to walk to the address that Marcus had given her; when she arrived at the restaurant, he was already standing outside, leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone while he waited.

                “Looking at anything interesting?”

                He started at the sound of her voice. He looked up at her with a smile and shoved his phone into his pocket immediately. “Just an email from my mom. I left a shirt at her house, she wanted to know whether it was important.”

                “In other words, she wanted an excuse to check in on you,” Abby supplied.

                Marcus laughed. “Precisely. Now c’mon, let’s get in out of the cold.”

                Inside, it was crowded, and they had to wait over fifteen minutes to get seated. Marcus and Abby hovered near the door, pressed close together as a result of the large cluster of people, but neither of them was complaining.

                They were seated at a table right next to the window, and for a few minutes, their conversation was focused on the menu, as Abby asked him for recommendations and deliberated over what sounded the most appealing.

                When the server came over, Abby was surprised to hear him greet Marcus by name. She knew it shouldn’t have come as a shock—it was becoming increasingly clear that he came here quite regularly. 

                What surprised her even more was the big grin that spread across his face as soon as the server arrived. “Scott! It’s been a few weeks, what’ve you been up to?”

                “Oh, didn’t I tell you I was going on a trip to Europe? Went all around the continent, it was pretty wild. I could tell you all about it next week, if you like, if you think you’ll be here at your usual time.”

                “Yeah, definitely, I know I came in during the rush today. I didn’t want to make Abby here get up too early.”

                Scott’s gaze shifted to Abby, who immediately felt vaguely uncomfortable as he smiled and said, “Ah right, I was wondering. Great to meet you, Abby. How do you two know each other?”

                They both answered too quickly. “School.”

                Abby glanced over at Marcus and saw that their unison response had drawn a smirk from him, although his eyes were still trained on Scott as he said, “Anyway, we won’t keep you, I’m sure you have other customers to worry about. I’ll just have my usual, I think?”

                “Great. Orange coffee?”

                “Of course. Is that even a question?”

                Scott chuckled and nodded, then looked over to Abby again. “And for you?”

                She exhaled loudly as she tried to force herself into a decision. “Chai French toast, I think. And a coffee.”

                “Regular or orange?”

                “I guess… orange?” Abby answered but it came out sounding like a question, and Marcus rushed to reassure her.

                “You’ll love it, it’s just your kind of drink.”

                “Okay, I’ll take his word for it. Orange coffee.”

                “Sounds great. I’ll be back with those drinks soon.”

                The moment he was gone, Abby leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Okay, I have to ask.”

                Marcus leaned forward as well, looking mildly concerned as he said, “Yes?”

                “How cool does it feel to go into a restaurant and be able to ask for your ‘usual?’”

                Abby’s question was so simple compared with all of the things he was clearly imagining, and he guffawed, laughing so heartily that the patrons closest to their table turned to look. When he had calmed himself, he nodded slightly and said, “Pretty cool, I have to say.”

                Marcus seemed more at ease than Abby had ever seen him before. In the past, he had spoken openly with her, but there were several occasions when he had clearly been unsure whether he should—or could—be quite so up-front. This reserved mindset had gone by the wayside entirely.

                When the check came, Abby reached for her bag. Marcus’s hand shot out and he laid it over hers; “Let me,” he said gently. It was a request, not an order, and when Abby looked up and met his gaze, she hesitated, considering the heavy question that was lingering behind his simple words.

                “Alright,” she agreed. 

                He smiled and echoed her: “Alright.”

                They stepped outside together and paused just beyond the threshold. The wind had died down a fair amount in the time since they went in, but even so, it was chilly, and Abby stood close to him as she wrapped her arms around herself and asked, “So what are we doing now?”

                “We could go over to Zoolights,” Marcus offered.

                “Oh, I’ve meant to check that out every year and I still haven’t!” she exclaimed, eyes widening as a grin spread across her face. But her face fell and she quickly became more subdued. “I wish I could get the full impact of it at night, though. It won’t be the same.”

                His eyes fell to the ground and he focused directly at his feet as he said, “If you don’t mind waiting, we could go back to my apartment for a few hours. Maybe watch a movie or something. But if you don’t want to that’s—”

                “I think a movie sounds great.”

                Marcus’s whole body visibly relaxed. “Cool. Good. Wonderful. My apartment’s just a few blocks away.”

                As they began to walk, though, they both held themselves stiffly, clearly not sure how much space to leave between one another or whether even accidental touching was okay. Then Abby looked at him out of the corner of her eye and, before she could lose her nerve, she informed him, “I’d like to hold your hand.”

                He reached out to her so quickly that she wondered whether he’d even actually had time to process her request.

\--

                Marcus’s apartment was smaller than Abby’s, although she immediately understood why—she knew that Lincoln Park was a rather expensive neighborhood, and with his proximity to the lake as an added cost, she couldn’t imagine that he’d pay for more than he needed.

                That said, the set-up was far from sparse; wall space that was not concealed by bookshelves or other furniture was covered with photographs and drawings, mostly of boats. A charcoal sketch immediately caught her eye and she drifted toward it to examine it more closely. Marcus quickly shucked his jacket and hat before trailing behind her.

                “This is the skyline from the lake, yeah?”

                “Mhm.”

                “It’s beautiful. Makes me feel really peaceful.”

                He laughed quietly. “Thank you. I think you’re probably the only one who’s ever felt at peace because of one of my drawings.”

                Abby twisted to look at him, found him standing off to her side and about a foot behind her. “You didn’t draw this.”

                “I did.”

                She looked from him to the sketch. “How did I not know that you could draw like this?”

                “Because most things I try to draw don’t come out this nice. That’s the only thing I’ve done that I ever really liked. Looking at it… it makes me feel peaceful too,” Marcus said, trailing off as his gaze drifted back to Abby. He was silent for a few moments. “My mother’s the real artist, everything else in here is hers.”

                At this, she looked both ways and stepped over to examine the photograph closest to them. While some of the photos scattered around the room were in color, this one was in black and white. A boat was the primary focus, but Abby immediately looked to the two people perched atop the vessel. One of them was a man; he vaguely resembled Marcus, although he looked to be taller and skinnier, and the features on his face were all wrong.

                On the man’s shoulders was a boy who couldn’t have been more than eight years old. He was beaming at the camera, and waving eagerly with both hands.

                “Little Marcus, I presume. You look adorable here.”

                He chuckled, turning slightly pink. “My mom took that to commemorate my first ride in my dad’s boat. It’s up more for the nostalgia than anything else.”

                Abby cast her gaze across the room, taking in all of the other pieces of art. “Nostalgia is enough, I think.”

                She kept scrutinizing it, and Marcus cleared his throat, unsure of what to do with himself.  “Would you like some coffee or something?”

                “That would be lovely, actually, yeah.”

                “Great. I can take your coat too, if you like.”

                This made Abby turn to look at him again, a gentle smile on her face. “You probably feel a little strange about me looking over your stuff so thoroughly.”

                “Most of my guests do tend to just give the whole place a cursory glance,” he admitted.

                “I’m just trying to get a better sense of you.” She held his gaze for a few moments before shrugging out of her coat and handing it over.

                He used his time in the kitchen as an opportunity to take some deep breaths to calm himself down. Abby wasn’t even doing anything, but even so, she had him all worked up. He was filled with a sense of anticipation that he couldn’t manage to suppress for anything.

                When Marcus returned to the living room, coffee cups in hand, Abby had finished looking over the art scattered across the room—now she was sitting cross-legged on the couch, her shoes discarded on the floor and a DVD in her hands.

                “You have one of the smallest DVD collections I’ve seen in my life,” she informed him as he sat down on the couch. Not directly beside her but still close, just the right amount of close.

                “Looks like you found something to watch anyway,” Marcus pointed out.

                He held one of the mugs out for her and she took a sip, letting out a soft _mmm_ of delight. “I did, yeah, if it’s alright with you. This is just the right amount of milk, Marcus, thank you.”

                “I should hope it is, I’ve had plenty of chances to see you prepare it.”

                Abby giggled, taking another, larger gulp of her coffee. Then she set the DVD in his lap. “C’mon, let’s watch Matthew Broderick wreak havoc on the city of Chicago.”

\--

                Marcus had seen _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off_ somewhere around one hundred times in his life. It would be an understatement to say that he _liked_ this movie.

                But halfway through this particular viewing, if someone had asked him what had happened so far, he would have had no fucking clue. It’s possible he wouldn’t have even been able to name the movie they were watching.

                It was just that Abby smelled lovely. And she kept fidgeting, positioning herself differently each time but then once when she stilled she was leaning against him and after that somehow she was always touching him, with her knee or her elbow or her shoulder or her hand. The contact was minimal but tantalizing. His throat was dry and he kept having to swallow as he stared straight ahead at the television.

                God, he wanted to just kiss her already.

                As it was, though, they were standing just over a precipice. Yes, Abby had kissed him once before but they were drunk at the time. They could write that off as an accident. Instead, here, all he had to do was lean over and…

                Nothing. And nothing. Because Marcus didn’t break the rules. Admittedly, he’d bent them with Abby, more than he’d bent the rules for anything in his life. The fact that he was sitting with her in his apartment was proof enough of that.

                “Marcus.”

                He started at the sound of his name, blinking several times. As his eyes came into focus, the scene at Wrigley Field appeared on the screen and he chuckled, but it sounded weak.

                “Yeah, Abby?”

                “We can turn off the movie if you’re not into it.”

                “Not into it? What are you talking about, of course I’m—” Marcus stopped abruptly when she gave him a look, eyebrows raised and lips curved into a small frown. “Distracted. I’m distracted. Sorry.”

                She waved this off. “Don’t worry about it. I am too, if I’m being honest.”

                “Oh, thank God.” He snatched up the remote and paused the film.

                Abby shifted in her seat again, this time positioning herself so that she was half facing him. She leaned her head on the couch. “I think this is the point where I’m supposed to ask, ‘What now?’”

                Marcus swallowed sharply and squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know,” he said softly.

                “Right.” She hesitated. “Marcus, I think I’ve made it pretty clear what I think of you.”

                “Yes.” The word came out as barely even a whisper.

                “And I don’t think I would be mistaken in saying that it seems like you think of me in the same way.”

                “No,” he agreed.

                “I’m tired of acting like that’s not there.”

                There was a loud buzzing in Marcus’s ears; the sound might have actually just been his heartbeat, which had been increasing rapidly in pace for the past two minutes. He opened his eyes and turned to look at Abby, who was sitting remarkably still and watching him closely. “You know it’s not that easy.”

                “Why shouldn’t it be? So you’re my professor for another two weeks. Who cares?”

                “My boss, for one.”

                “Because you might grade me unfairly.”

                “Something like that.”

                Abby sat up higher and cleared her throat. “Okay. Let’s say that I fail the final.”

                He made a face at her. “You’re not going to fail the final.”

                “Let’s say I fail the final,” she repeated, louder. “Do you promise that you’ll give me an ‘F?’”

                “But you’re not going to fail, so what’s the point?”

                “Just promise!” She jabbed him in the side and he doubled over, chuckling.

                “I promise, I promise!”

                “And you won’t push me up to the next letter grade if I’m right on the edge?”

                Marcus’s brow furrowed. “I do that for everybody.”

                “Really?” Abby paused, processing this. “In that case, please don’t be afraid to nudge my grade up.”

                “Your grade doesn’t need any nudging. There’s no danger of me putting anything in the gradebook that you didn’t earn by working hard and studying.”

                “Okay.” She leaned in a bit closer. “Then it wouldn’t matter if you kissed me right now.”

                He tried to laugh but it came out all wrong, more like a few sharp little gasps. He stopped as soon as he realized how absurd it sounded. “I’m pretty sure that logic is faulty.”

                “Maybe, but I’m pretty sure that you don’t care anymore than I do.”

                When Marcus didn’t argue immediately, Abby closed the gap between them and kissed him softly.

                For the briefest of moments, he didn’t react, and that moment stretched before Abby as an eternity and she worried whether perhaps she was pushing for something that he didn’t want after all.

                But then his hands shot out to grab hold of her at the waist and pull her closer. She grinned against his lips and Marcus took the opportunity to press his tongue into her mouth, tasting her eagerly.

                The first moment they paused for breath, Abby shifted on the couch again so that she could settle herself in his lap, straddling him. His face was flushed and his eyes gleamed as he looked up at her, mouth slightly agape.

                “Thank you,” he said suddenly.

                “For what?” Abby’s fingers went to Marcus’s hair and she pressed some strands out of his face.

                He swallowed hard. “For coming over to me in Kafein and making me help you with basic macroeconomics.”

                She didn’t answer; she just smiled warmly, her eyes crinkled and fond. Then she leaned in to kiss him again.

\--

                In the days leading up to the final exam, Abby and Marcus continued to meet for coffee in the late afternoon or the early evening, and for the most part, it was as though nothing had changed. They made more of an effort to spend their time together actually addressing her economics questions, which meant that they often parted earlier than before.

                Admittedly, they would then return home and spend hours chatting over the phone.

                On the night before the test, though, they stuck around long after Abby felt confident enough to put her notes away and relax. They leaned in close to converse, their elbows on the table and their fingers just barely touching.

                “Can I ask you something?” Marcus said, rather out of the blue.

                 “You just did.”

                He scowled at her. “If I didn’t like you so much, I would be outraged by that.”

                Abby smirked and nudged his foot under the table. “What is it?”

                “I know it might seem way too early to bring this up, but I wanted to make sure that you had plenty of time to think about it.”

                “Yes?”

                “I found out today that my sabbatical has been approved for next year. I’ll be spending summer and fall quarters going around Europe and doing research for a paper on the global effects of shifting economic policies across the continent.”

                She raised her eyebrows at him. “Okay. What does this have to do with me, though?”

                “What if you came with me?”

                For once, Abby was speechless. She blinked at him, mouth open as though she was about to speak, but no words came out. Marcus was simply relieved that she did not immediately tell him no, and he continued, glancing around and lowering his voice as he did so.

                “I’m not trying to ask you to derail your plans just for me. We’ve only just… things between us are brand new. I know that. But from what you said the other day, I got the impression that you might like to defer, except you felt like you couldn’t.”

                “I shouldn’t,” she corrected.

                Marcus nodded slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe not. There aren’t any rules for this sort of thing. Whether you came with me isn’t even really important. I just think you should consider the fact that you might _like_ a break before med school.” After a brief pause, he sheepishly added, “And I know if you did decide to join me, I’d love having you around.”

                “Are you serious?” Abby didn’t sound dismissive, she just sounded surprised and bewildered.

                He let out a low chuckle and pressed his hand more firmly against hers. “Our situation right now should tell you how serious I am.”

                She considered this, looking down at their hands and smiling slightly. “I’ll think about it.”

                That was good enough for him. Good enough for now. This was all more than he could have ever hoped for, so it was certainly good enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not quite the end; I will be writing an epilogue and adding it very soon, hopefully by the end of this weekend at the latest. xx


	2. Epilogue

_One Year Later_

\--

                After pressing the doorbell, Marcus glanced over at Abby and muttered, “You’re fidgeting again.”

                She immediately stopped fussing with the boxes in her arms, looking up at him guiltily. Her cheeks were tinted pink, but that was primarily as a result of the cold. “I can’t help it.”

                “You have nothing to be worried about.” He paused. “Besides, I’m pretty sure my nieces and nephews can sense fear.”

                Abby let out a hollow laugh. “That’s reassuring.”

                He grinned fondly and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek.

                It was in this moment that his mother opened the door. “Marcus!” she exclaimed delightedly, stepping out of the doorway. “Come in, come in, you two must be freezing. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow afternoon!”

                “We heard about the snowstorm that’s supposed to come through tomorrow afternoon and figured we should probably get ahead of it,” he explained, allowing her to claim the gifts in his arms; she crossed into the adjacent sitting room to add them to an already sizable pile under a large Christmas tree while Marcus tugged off his hat, gloves, and coat.

                “Probably wise. You know how dangerous it is to drive around the bottom of Lake Michigan this time of year.”

                He made a face at Abby and she smirked—just half an hour ago, he had told her that within the first ten minutes of their arrival, his mother would bring up the danger of driving from Illinois to Michigan, as she apparently always did.

                Upon returning to the entryway, Marcus and his mother shared a brief embrace. When she pulled away, she directed her focus to Abby, taking the boxes from her as well. “And how are you, dear?”

                “I’m lovely, Vera, thanks. Still pretty jet lagged but Marcus let me sleep most of the way up here, which helped some.”

                “By ‘let you sleep,’ I’m assuming you mean that he insisted, yes?”

                Abby chuckled and looked to Marcus, who turned his head away bashfully. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Probably more because he knows how grumpy I get when I’m sleepy than because he was trying to be courteous, though.”

                “That was a consideration,” he agreed. He glanced around, peering down the hall and up the staircase. “Where is everyone? Usually when I show up it’s a madhouse in here.”

                “Aurora took Bellamy out for ice cream, and everyone else isn’t getting here until tomorrow. Tonight’s going to be pretty quiet. Though I’m sure Bell will keep you busy once they get home. In the meantime you two can get settled in. Do you need any help getting anymore bags from the car?”

                “No, no, that’s alright,” Marcus rushed to assure her. “We only have the one suitcase. We’ll go upstairs and get settled in and then we’ll come down and we can chat over some coffee, maybe?”

                Vera smiled and nodded. “Take your time. I’ll start some coffee brewing.”

                Abby followed Marcus upstairs, grinning when he began humming absent-mindedly to himself. At the top of the stairs, he turned and strode down to the end of the hall, to the smallest of the bedrooms. “This one’s mine,” he announced, rather unnecessarily. “At Christmas, at least. At Thanksgiving my mom’s brother and his wife come, too, so they always put me downstairs on the couch.”

                “I remember you mentioning that,” Abby said, smirking as she took their suitcase from Marcus and plopped it down onto the bed so she could rifle through it. “How they put you there because you were… what was the phrase you used?”

                “‘Conspicuously uncoupled,’ I believe.”

                “That’s right. I knew it was something unnecessarily elaborate.” He scoffed over her shoulder and she giggled, turning her attention away from the suitcase so that she could peck him on the lips. “I wonder what they’d do with you now.”

                “S’pose we’ll see next year.”

                Abby’s smile grew softer at this. “Can’t wait.” Moments later she reached the toiletries bag where it had been hiding under most of their clothes, and she let out a satisfied, “Finally!”

                “What were you looking for that for?”

                “I wanna brush my teeth. My mouth still tastes like sleep.”

                “Really? I didn’t notice.”

                “Liar.” She kissed him again, on the cheek this time, then retreated with toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. “Which room—”

                “Third door on the right.”

                While Marcus waited, he sat on the bed and peered into the suitcase, trying to remember whether he had remembered to pack the shirt that his mother gave him last Christmas in the rush between getting home from O’Hare and leaving for Michigan.

                His eyes landed on a small box tucked to the side and he grinned, pulling it out and looking it over. When he heard Abby returning, he said quietly, “I thought you wanted to tell your parents first.”

                “I decided that would be silly. They’re not coming down to Chicago until after Christmas, but we’re here right now. They won’t be distraught if they find out that Vera got the news a few days earlier. So whenever you want to—”

                “Now.”

                “Right now?”

                “Yeah. Right now.” Marcus jumped up off the bed and crossed over to Abby where she was standing in the doorway. He opened the box and plucked the ring out, sliding it onto her finger.

                They blinked down at the ring. The two of them had selected it together nearly a month ago in Paris, with the agreement that Marcus could pop the question whenever he felt moved to do so. That moment didn’t come until about a week before they returned to the States, when they were enjoying an evening walk along the Thames in London.

                So the look of it was still rather new to them both.

                Marcus broke the silence first with a tentative, “Want to go downstairs?”

                “Yeah, alright.”

                Abby trailed behind him down the hall, down the stairs, into the kitchen, their fingers only barely linked but the touch felt electric anyway.

                “Mom,” Marcus started, “We’ve got some great news.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm absolutely thrilled by the response that this fic has gotten in just five days. I hope that this short and sweet epilogue provided you with the resolution that it's intended to. :)


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